


Show Me Your Soul

by Disenchantedglow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Happy Ending, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 10:37:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18233768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disenchantedglow/pseuds/Disenchantedglow
Summary: Show meThe most damagedParts of your soul,And I will show youHow it still shines like gold-Nikita Gill





	Show Me Your Soul

“While you were off playing Quidditch with Harry and Ron, I did some research today.”

Draco quirked an elegant white-blond eyebrow at Hermione, looking up from his pasta and taking a sip of red wine before answering.

“Research? Imagine that. Hermione Granger researching on what is supposed to be her much needed day off from the unsolvable riddles down in the Department of Mysteries.” He smiled, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of his swotty girlfriend— _fiancé_ —across the table. She was dressed casually for an evening at home, her oversized jumper exposing the smooth, bare skin of her right shoulder. The candle light from their dining table emphasized the honeyed tones of her chestnut curls that were currently trying to escape their haphazard bun. He really was a lucky bastard to have snagged the Gryffindor know-it-all. “I thought you were supposed to have brunch with my mother.”

“I did! I _can_ do more than one thing in a day, you know.” Hermione sniffed in mock annoyance. “Your mother and I had a wonderful morning out in the Manor gardens. She showed me the new greenhouse with the tropical cuttings Luna and Neville brought her back from South America. It's going to be an amazing collection of plants once it matures. She's very proud of it. And after the tour, we had a delicious brunch during which Narcissa attempted to get me to agree to all sorts of decisions I'm not yet ready to commit to about the wedding.”

“Hermione, love, we haven't even been engaged a full week.”

“Yes, I know.” Hermione nodded her head in agreement with Draco, taking a small bite of her fettuccine carbonara and washing it down with a gulp of wine before continuing. “When I told her we wanted to be married by next fall, I thought I was going to have to cast _rennervate_ ; she looked so stunned. She immediately went into party planning mode and started demanding I choose a date and color scheme. Apparently twelve months is not nearly enough time to put together the wedding event of the decade that she's always had planned for you. She already has a prepared guest list of over five hundred people. She just needed the names of the friends and family I'd like to invite.”

Draco pushed his half-eaten meal away from himself and sat back in the dining chair, running a pale hand across his face. He didn't usually demonstrate so openly his frustration and exhaustion, even with Hermione, but when he did, like now, it was usually due to his mother's actions.

“Merlin's beard, that's insane.”

Hermione took another fortifying sip of wine before responding. Wine was definitely going to be a necessity for getting through these next few months of wedding planning. “I agree. It _is_ crazy. But it's also somewhat understandable. Draco, you're her only child and the heir to one of the wealthiest—”

“ _The_ wealthiest,” Draco corrected with a smirk.

“Fine. The heir of _the_ wealthiest pure-blood family in Great Britain. It's obvious we'll have to have some sort of big wedding. We'll just have try to reign in your mother somewhat. Maybe we can get Andromeda to help curb the more extravagant details.”

Hermione stood up from the table and pointed her wand at the dinner plates, sending them to the sink to wash themselves with a flick of her wrist. She walked over to her fiancé, grabbing his hands and pulling him up from his seat before leading him over to sit in the living room. Once he was settled on the cream cushions of their sofa, Hermione snuggled into his side and with a quick _accio,_ their wine glasses floated into their hands.

“I'm too tired to deal with any wedding planning today,” Draco announced, grabbing Hermione's left hand in his, his fingers twisting the platinum and diamond ring he had placed there only five nights ago on her 26th birthday. “I just want to relax with my witch and enjoy the fact that she was daft enough to agree to spend the rest of her life with me.  And maybe—if I’m lucky—she’ll let me see what she's got on under her jumper.” He leered at her, laughing when she smacked him across the chest.

“But tell me about your research today. We got off topic with Mother and the wedding. What's gotten ahold of your brain's interest this time?”

“We weren't actually too far off topic,” Hermione responded, reaching forward to the glass-topped coffee table to set down her wine glass and pick up the thick book she had been reading before Draco had returned home that evening. She set the blue leather-bound book on her legging-clad thighs and opened it to the chapter on magical marriage ceremonies.

“I was so embarrassed when your mum asked me what type of ceremony we were planning on having, and I had to admit that not only had I not thought about it, I also realized that I have no knowledge of traditional wizarding marriage rites. I've only been to Bill and Fleur's wedding and Harry and Ginny's. And neither couple is particularly traditional, so I truly had never put much thought into how their ceremonies must have differed from pure-blood weddings, or even ancient mores.” She gently pulled her hand free from Draco's and grabbed her book with both hands, flipping through the delicate pages until she found the section she was searching for.

Hermione looked up at Draco, her breath catching in her throat as she lost her train of thought. With his white blond hair mussed and falling into his eyes after a day of flying and his eyes such a delicate shade of blue as he gazed at her that they almost appeared silver, Hermione fell more in love with him every day. This man who walked around their flat in short sleeved wrinkled t-shirts and lounge pants, this man who smiled at her so brightly it lit up his whole face, not just quirking the corner of his lips in a smirk as he did for other people. This man, Draco Malfoy, was going to be her husband. And Circe if she didn't love him more than anything.

She had had a whole speech prepared, logical and precise, outlining all the reasons she chose the marriage ceremony that she had. And it all was forgotten when she looked into his eyes.

“I want to do a soul bonding ceremony.”

“A soul bonding?” Draco's eyes widened, and he sat up straighter against the cushions, pulling away slightly from Hermione so that he could better see her face. “No one does those anymore.”

“I know they've fallen out of favour,” Hermione agreed, tucking a wayward curl back into her messy bun,  “but they're still a legal marriage ceremony. I double checked.” She waved her hand at the small stack of books haphazardly placed on the arm of the wing backed chair on the other side of the coffee table.

“They may still be legal, Hermione, but no one has actually had one in fifty years.”

“Seventy-eight years, to be precise. The last recorded soul binding was in 1927, right before the list of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families was published and pure-bloods turned to handfasting as they began arranging marriages to uphold their blood statuses and wealth. Though even before then the soul ceremonies had dropped significantly in popularity.”

“Because handfasting was such a better alternative! All the marriage and none of the side effects! I doubt Mother meant a soul bonding when she questioned the type of ceremony you desired. I can assume she meant to inquire whether you wanted a traditional handfasting or if you wanted to incorporate some religious or Muggle influences.”

Draco jumped up from the couch, Hermione glaring at him as she toppled slightly to the side at the loss of his body supporting hers. She watched as he paced in front of the oversized brick fireplace, running his right hand through his hair as he gathered his thoughts,  messing up any semblance of its previous order. As he began speaking once more, his left hand began to gesticulate, a sure sign of his agitation.

“We should just have a handfasting. That's _normal_. It's expected. There's no need to make our marriage a spectacle—and that's exactly what it will be if we do a soul bonding. It's bad enough the Gryffindor Princess of the Golden Trio is marrying the ex-Death Eater. There's going to be enough gossip and speculation around our relationship. But throw in ancient soul magic and we'd be setting ourselves up for a media frenzy, Hermione!”

Hermione sat quietly on the sofa, her hands in her lap, as she watched Draco and tried to think. She had expected some resistance to the idea; it was, after all, an unexpected request. But what she hadn't anticipated was the vehemence with which Draco opposed the soul ceremony. After a few moments of silence, she stood up and slowly walked over to Draco, who was now grasping the fireplace mantle tightly with both hands while resting his forehead on the solid cherry wood.

“Draco,” she whispered, placing her tanned hand on top of his larger pale one. “No one sees us that way anymore, at least no one we care about. And our wedding doesn't _have_ to be a spectacle. We'll reign your mother in. We'll only invite our close friends and family so only those we know and trust will see the true extent of our vows and bonding. The public won't have to know.”

“It'll still get out, Hermione. As soon as our marriage is logged with the Ministry, all the details will be recorded, including the type of ceremony. It'll be in the _Prophet_ within twenty-four hours.” He sighed, turning his hand over to link his fingers with hers but still refusing to lift his head from its wooden resting place.

“But what does it matter?! It wouldn't be the first time we've been in the papers, and it won't be the last. What does it matter if everyone knows our love is so strong and so true that we wanted to link our souls and magic? It's the ultimate demonstration of our love for each other, and I don't care who knows it! I _want_ everyone to see how much I love you!”

Hermione's voice grew louder as she spoke, tears glistening in her eyes and her hand squeezing Draco's, trying to get him to look at her so she could see what he was thinking. But Draco said nothing in response and made no movements other than to squeeze her hand in return and slowly shake his head back and forth against the mantle.

After waiting a few minutes, hoping he would say something, Hermione finally broke the silence. “Do you really not want to do this, Draco? Are you so against it without even having a proper discussion with me?”

“I just don't think you've thought this all the way through,” he finally responded, not wanting to outright dismiss Hermione's desires but also absolutely not wanting to partake in any form of soul magic. He lifted his head and looked down into her eyes, seeing the hurt and confusion there. “A soul bonding isn't just pretty words, Hermione. It's strong magic. Strong, _eternal_ magic. There's no undoing it.”

“I know that, Draco. Do you think I'm daft?” She pulled her hand away from his and stepped back, her confusion turning to anger at his complete unwillingness to say anything about what he was truly feeling.

“Of course not! But I don't think you've done enough research on it. No one has a soul bonded marriage anymore. I don't even know of anyone who still knows how to perform them. And it’s not because people don't respect the ancient ways. I assure you, tradition is very much alive within pure-blood society. But soul magic is… it's _extreme_. The pure-bloods only performed them in the most special of circumstances.”

“So you don't think our 'circumstance’ is special enough? Or is this because I'm just a Mudblood and not worthy of such a _special_ and _magical_ pure-blood ceremony?”

“Don't call yourself that!” Draco yelled, flinging his right arm at the small jar of Floo powder and smashing it to the ground. He turned to finally face Hermione, her cheeks flushed in anger and her eyes wide in shock at his outburst. “Of course this isn't because you're a Muggle-born! Do you seriously not know me well enough by now to understand that I don't give a fuck about blood purity?! Damnit, Hermione. I love you so much. I want to be with you more than anyone or anything else in this bloody world. And Merlin knows I would marry you tonight if you’d agree to it. We could apparate to the Ministry right now and just get married there in the registrar's office wearing the clothes we have on now, and I wouldn't give two _fucks_ as long as I got to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Draco resumed his pacing, unable to look at Hermione and the tears that were streaming down her face. The tears that he caused. “I would give you anything in the world, Hermione. Anything else that you asked me, I would fight to the death to give you. But I cannot do a soul bonding with you.”

“I-I don't understand,” she stuttered, her breath catching as she tried to form words around her tears. “I don't understand why you won't even _talk_ to me about this. If you heard my reasons or read the chapter…” She stopped talking as she turned back to the couch, rushing to pick up the blue leather book that had been tossed to the side and forgotten at the beginning of their discussion. “Maybe if you read the chapter on soul bonding ceremonies you would change your mind.”

Draco pushed away the book as Hermione held it out to him, trying to entice him to read it and to see things from her perspective. “I can't fucking do this. You aren't _listening_.” He took three giant steps backwards, turned, and Apparated out of the flat.

As her fiancé vanished from view, Hermione's legs gave out and she crumpled to the floor. How did this happen? How did such a peaceful, domestic evening turn into such a nightmare? She loved him so much, but after only five days of being engaged, it seemed as if their relationship was falling apart.

Hermione burst into tears, her heavy sobs wracking her body as she laid on the woven area rug, wondering how things had gone so wrong so quickly.

________

Hermione sat on the small couch, breath hiccuping from the sobs she fought to contain as she recounted the past hour for her two best friends. She ineffectively swiped at her swollen eyes with the heel of her hand, dampening the sleeve of her jumper as Harry sat with his arm around her, patting her back as she spoke.

“...and he told me he couldn't ‘do this’ anymore. And he just— he just left.” She sniffled and gratefully took the tissue Ron offered her from his seat across the coffee table. Both men were silent for a few moments after her story, gathering their thoughts while she attempted to compose herself.

It was Harry who finally broke the silence. “I guess I'm just confused. I don't know anything about wizarding weddings except for what happened at my own. Ginny just said she wanted a handfasting, so that's what we did. I didn't even know there were any other types of bonding. I get that the kind you want to have involves souls, and that seems obviously like a big deal, but I don't know exactly… how?” Harry trailed off into a question, seemingly unsure as to what it was he was missing but hoping Hermione would understand what it was he needed to know.

“A handfasting like the one you and Ginny had, Harry, is a beautiful bonding ceremony. It's essentially a charm, similar to the unbreakable vow, that is activated by the wand motion of the officiant and the binding words that are spoken as the cords are placed around the couple's entwined hands. The charm is sealed by the knotting of the cords and the kiss between the bridal couple. It's a beautiful piece of spellwork.” Hermione paused her impromptu lesson, reaching for the cup of tea that had been previously left forgotten on the table in front of her. Taking a sip and looking from Harry to Ron to make sure they were still following along, she clasped the warmth of her tea cup between her palms and continued.

“A soul bonding ceremony is an ancient tradition that predates any written texts we have. Whereas a handfasting utilizes magic in the form of a charm, the soul bonding uses _core_ magic—the magic that is intrinsic to each witch and wizard. Core magic isn't tied to our physical bodies but to our souls, so when the magic of the ceremony is performed, the couple's magical cores are entwined along with their souls, creating an eternal, unbreakable bond.”

“That sounds… intense.” Harry stated, watching Hermione as she sipped her tea, finally calming after reverting to the familiar comfort of imparting knowledge to her two best friends. “But it also seems completely like something you would want to do. You've never been one to do anything by half measures.”

Hermione's lips tipped up slightly, acknowledging Harry's attempt to joke her out of her melancholy. “It is intense,” she agreed, “But it has so many potential benefits besides, of course, the marriage itself. Because magical cores are combined, there's a potential for each person's magic to become stronger. There's also evidence of empathetic and telepathic magic developing between the married couple. It would be fascinating to study.”

“Bloody hell, Hermione!” Ron erupted, jumping up from the chair in which he had been quietly sitting. “You don't just get soul bonded because it's _fascinating to study_ ! Are you daft?!” He began to pace in front of the fireplace, unknowingly copying Draco's actions from earlier that evening. “Shite. Maybe Malfoy was right. Maybe you _haven't_ done enough research on this,” he muttered to himself angrily, stomping back and forth.

“Hey—” Hermione began, tears forming once again.

“Ron, don't talk to her like that!” Harry started before Ron cut them both off.

“No. You both need to listen. You don't bloody mess around with a soul bond. It's a big deal. _Huge_. There's a reason no one has one anymore.” He sighed, running both hands through his shoulder length red hair in exasperation before sitting back down across from his friends. “Listen. The two of you might not be able to grasp how extreme this type of marriage is because you weren't raised in a wizarding family.”

“Just because I'm _Muggle-born_ , Ronald, does not mean I can't understand—”

“I know you can understand anything, Hermione; you're the smartest witch I know, Muggle-born or not. But you didn't grow up hearing all the stories and tales that Malfoy and I did. And I'm trying to explain it to you.” He rubbed his hands across his face before clasping them together between his knees, his elbows resting on his thighs. “A handfasting is like you said: a charm that connects the lives of two people for life. But only for _this_ life. And it's not talked about much, but a handfasting can be broken. It's painful and difficult and not something to do lightly, but it _can_ be done. A soul bonding is forever. Not just in this life, but for eternity. There's no breaking it, there's no backing out. And yes, you may get to share magical power, but it's because you're essentially one person in two bodies. You exchange a half of your soul and magic for half of theirs. And because of that, if one of you dies, the other dies too.”

Hermione smiled gently at Ron and Harry. They were men now, but they'd always be her boys. And the three of the would always look out for each other. She watched them now, Harry looking aghast at the information Ron just told them and Ron anxious and hopeful that she would listen to what he had to say.

“I know, Ron. I know that death for one of us would mean death for both if we were to perform a soul bonding ceremony. But it also means that if one of us were on the _brink_ of death, the other could bring them back. It means living with the full potential of my relationship with Draco, understanding each other and loving each other at the deepest level. It means experiencing our magic as the ancients did, with nothing holding us back. And it also means that maybe people would finally see Draco as more than the young Death Eater he once was. They would see that his soul is pure and light and would stop glaring at him and sending hexes at his back when he walks down Diagon Alley. More than anything that's what I want: for people to see him the way I do. As a boy who made mistakes, but who has turned into a man who has done everything in his power to make up for the things he once did.”

“Merlin, Hermione, you're going to talk him into it, aren't you?” Ron flopped back into his chair, giving up trying to talk sense into her.

“I hope to. If he's not done with me and our relationship.” She tried to smile as she wiped the tears from her cheeks once more.

“He's not. Draco loves you, Hermione. More than anything. He'll calm down and come home and the two of you can talk rationally about everything. You'll see.”

_____________

“What are you doing here?” Draco slurred, throwing back his shot of firewhiskey and slamming the tumbler back down to the scarred wooden bartop, signaling for another one before he had finished swallowing the last.

“Aberforth Flooed me to tell me you were trying to drown yourself in alcohol.” Theo sat delicately on the stool next to his disheveled friend, nose wrinkling at the sticky substance clinging to the bar and casting a quick _scourgify_ before resting his elbows on it. “Want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Draco sneered. With his hair mussed and his black t-shirt and plaid lounge bottoms smelling of spilled alcohol, the haughty Malfoy attitude lost some of its usual effect.

“About whatever it is that has you pissed at the Hog's Head with no sign of our favourite Gryffindor accompanying you. I just assumed the two of you had become magically stuck together since you never leave each other’s side, so whatever you did must be bad.”

Draco snorted, taking a gulp of the firewhiskey Aberforth had set in front of him as Theo spoke. “We aren't stuck together yet,” he mumbled, “but if Hermione had her way, we would be.”

Theo just raised an eyebrow over the rim of his black square-framed glasses and waited for Draco to begin explaining. He knew it wouldn't take too long. Malfoy was a damn private wizard, but with the right amount of liquor in him, he would spill his secrets like he was dosed with Veritaserum.

“Hermione and Mother had brunch today. They discussed the wedding.”

“Did it go poorly? I thought the two of them got along?” Theo prodded, bringing his own tumbler of whiskey to his lips.

Draco waved his right hand dismissively at Theo. “No, they get along very well. But after their discussion, Hermione realized she was unfamiliar with wizarding wedding traditions. So she _researched_.”

He lowered his forehead to the bar, thunking it once against the hard wooden surface before silently raising one finger in the air to order yet another drink. Aberforth paused his hands in their wiping down of dirty glasses and glanced towards the two friends. At Theo's emphatic headshake, the older wizard returned to his cleaning, ignoring the demands of his inebriated customer.

“I think you've had enough, mate,” Theo told the other Slytherin, filling his glass tumbler with water from a quick _aguamenti_. “Besides, Granger and research sounds pretty ordinary to me. Definitely not a reason to be drinking yourself into an oblivion.”

His forehead still resting on the bartop, Draco's response was unintelligible.

“Come again?” Theo asked.

Draco lifted his head, his bloodshot grey eyes looking right into Theo's hazel ones. “Hermione wants to be soul bound.”

“Well shite,” Theo responded, sliding his still half full drink over to Draco. “I guess a little more alcohol couldn't hurt.”

He slammed the firewhiskey back, immune now to the burning sensation down his esophagus. “Merlin, what am I going to do?”

Theo looked at his best friend of twenty years. They had grown up together, practically lived at each other’s houses over summers and school breaks, and yet he had never seen the usually immaculate blond so despondent. Even when the Dark Lord was living at the manor, Draco managed to keep an air of superiority about himself, at least when in the company of others. This reaction from the wizard was unheard of.

“You love Hermione, don't you?”

Draco scowled at him, his lip curling in disgust. “What kind of question is that? Of course I bloody love her.”

“Do you want to spend the rest of your life with her?” Theo continued, unphased by Draco's anger.

“Yes. Is there a point to these inane questions?”

“Well, you love her and you want to spend the rest of your life with her. Do you want to have children with her? Are you willing to do anything for her? To _die_ for her?” Seeing Draco's body wind tighter, Theo continued, trying to make his point. “Then I don't see why you can't get soul bonded. No, hear me out,” he requested when Draco began to interrupt. “I realize that it's not a common form of marriage anymore. But it was once the way all marriages were sealed. You love her and want to be with her forever; plus, Granger is a very powerful witch, so you can reap the benefits of sharing her magic. Go ahead and do the soul bond. Set a new trend. Break everyone's expectations not only by marrying a Muggle-born but also doing it with an ancient marriage ceremony.”

“I _can't_. I can't bind her to my soul, Theo. Don't you get it?” Draco rolled the whiskey tumbler between his palms, staring at the patterns etched into its glass before suddenly rearing back and throwing it against the back wall of the bar, watching as it shattered into a million pieces.  

Aberforth scowled in their direction, his bushy grey eyebrows forming a deep 'V’ over his milky blue eyes. Theo shot him an apologetic smile as he pulled his wand out of his sleeve and cast a quick _reparo_ as Draco continued his rant.

“I can't tie her soul to mine! She's everything that is light and good in this world, and I'm just a fuck up with a tainted soul. I tried to kill Dumbledore and didn't care who I hurt in the process. I let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, I tortured Muggles at the will of the Dark Lord. Fuck! I watched as _Hermione_ was crucioed on my own fucking floor! And I didn't do anything because I was too big of a coward.”

Draco twisted his left arm so that the soft skin on the inside of his forearm was visible, displaying his Dark Mark for Theo to see. Theo, of course, knew that it was there, but the skull and serpent was still a rare sight. Usually Draco wore robes or at least a long sleeved shirt, never rolled up past mid-forearm.

“I'm marked by dark magic. There's no escaping it. I know I don't deserve Hermione, but I'm a selfish bastard, and I'm going to marry her anyway for as long as she'll have me. If we do a handfasting, she'll still have options if she changes her mind and realises how imperfect I am. It'll be difficult, but we can still dissolve the handfasting. I won't let her bind herself to my dark soul for eternity with every guest at the wedding witnessing the extent of its corruption and judging her for it.”

Theo looked at Draco, surprised that he still felt unworthy so many years after the war. He had done so much since then; it was ridiculous that he still felt that way. “You know Hermione doesn't think you have a black soul, don't you? She wouldn't have agreed to marry you if she didn't think you were worth it. I don't know what it's like to have one of those—” he gestured towards Voldemort's mark on Draco's arm “—since I was lucky enough to escape Voldy's notice, but I know you don't still believe in what it symbolises.”

Draco nodded, slowly twisting his arm so the mark was no longer on display.

“If you want my advice, go home. Stop running scared and go talk to Hermione. She's smart, and she loves you. Tell her what you told me. Have a fucking conversation with her and find a compromise. You don't want to lose her because you were being a bloody wanker.”

_____________

By the time Draco stumbled through the front door of his shared flat with Hermione, Theo having side-along Apparated him to his door to avoid splinching, it was past midnight. The living room was dark and the spilled Floo powder from his earlier outburst was already cleaned.  He made his way through the living room and into the hallway, stumbling slightly against the wall as he tried to maintain his balance after consuming almost half a bottle of firewhiskey. He just needed to make it to bed so he could sleep off this bloody alcohol and start fresh with Hermione in the morning.

He could see her dark curls against the stark white of the pillowcase in the pale moonlight filtering in through the curtained window.  Seeing her laying in their bed, so beautiful, the guilt hit him. Guilt over leaving mid-argument earlier that evening. Guilt over not being good enough for her. Guilt over his actions during the war and throughout their early years at Hogwarts. As much as he had been looking forward to sleep, he couldn't stand the thought of sliding into bed next to her, the filth of his guilt and anger—not to mention the sweat and cigarette smoke from the bar—still clinging to his skin. He stripped his clothes off, banishing them to the laundry before running the shower and stepping under the hot spray.

 _Fuck._ What was he doing? Had he ruined everything by walking away from Hermione tonight? He should have stayed and talked to her, but he just couldn't tell her that his soul was too dark to be bound to hers when she looked at him so lovingly. He would do anything for her, but Merlin, he didn't want to corrupt her soul in any way. He didn't see how he would be able to tell her the truth and have her still want to be with him. He was going to fucking lose her. Voldemort was still costing him everything, damnit.

Breathing heavily, Draco faced the shower spray, his head bowed, the water sluicing down his back, burning his pale skin pink. His emotions in turmoil, he slammed his fist into the white tiled wall as tears began to slide down his cheeks. His breath turned to hiccuping gasps, and he placed his palms against the tile, bending his elbows and pushing, using the wall to support his body weight. His knuckles radiated pain with every flex of his muscles, and he relished the feeling, knowing he deserved it. He had to think of a way out of this bloody mess.

So lost was he in the chaos of his thoughts that Draco gasped in surprise when Hermione's small hands slid around his torso, settling against his abdomen as she rested her head along his spine.

“I didn't know if you were coming home,” she whispered as she hugged him gently, brushing his skin lightly with her lips, attempting to comfort him as she listened to him cry.

“I'm— I'm sorry,” he replied bringing his hands to his stomach and grasping hers tightly. “I shouldn't have left. I never want you to have to question my intent or my love for you, but Hermione, I _can_ 't go through with a soul bonding ceremony.”

“I know you love me, Draco. I've never doubted that. And obviously this is important to you. So please, just tell me why. Help me to understand what happened tonight.”

He sighed, bringing one of her hands up to his mouth and dropping two small kisses to the back of it. “You are everything to me. You're everything good in my world. You're caring and thoughtful, you put others before yourself and really try to find the positive in any situation. Your soul is this bright shining beacon of hope and love. People are drawn to you because of it, but you're too busy trying to right all the world's wrongs to see it. When we started dating, it was as if my whole world was hit with _lumos.”_

“Draco,” Hermione started, pulling her hands from his grasp and setting them on his hips, attempting to force him to turn around and face her.

“Let me finish,” he replied, keeping his face turned away from her. “I need to get this out.” There was a momentary pause as he gathered his thoughts.

“I am the opposite of everything you are. People know my past and cross the street so as not to have to pass by me in Diagon Alley. They know I have this dark magic stuck to my skin, and they are repelled by it. Your soul is bright and light and mine is tainted and grey. It has to be, Hermione! The things I've done— _fuck_ , it's a miracle you're still with me. I almost killed Katie Bell and Weasley while trying to kill Dumbledore. I compromised the safety of every single student at Hogwarts. I used the Imperius curse on Madame Rosmerta. I watched as my fucking aunt tortured you and carved that word into your arm—” He choked on his tears, grabbing her left arm and running his fingers over the the raised letters scared into her skin. “—and it was all because I was afraid for _myself_. I was willing to risk anyone and everything so that I would be okay in the end.”

Hermione extricated her arm from his grasp, and, finally giving up on turning Draco around, she stepped away from his back, squeezing herself in between the cold tile of the shower wall and his chest. Her hands went to his cheeks, pulling his face down to hers so that she could look directly into his eyes. He was hardly recognizable as her normally meticulously groomed fiancé. With his eyes puffy and bloodshot, his hair a darker shade of blond and matted to his head, and his cheeks red from the heat of the shower and the remaining alcohol in his bloodstream, he could have walked through the Ministry unrecognised.

“Don't you see, Hermione? My soul is black. Binding our souls would taint yours—and not just for this life. For _eternity_. I won't do that to you. You'll grow to hate me when everyone sees what you've bound yourself to. If you still want to marry me after all of this, we can do a handfasting. We'll be tied together for this life, but if you ever want to end things, you'll still be able to leave. I just want what's best for you.”

“Shut up, Draco Malfoy,” Hermione told him, tugging his head down until her lips could reach his, and she kissed him, her mouth against his to stop him from talking and spouting any more nonsense. As he began to kiss her back, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her body closer to his, Hermione broke the kiss, whispering against his lips. “Who are you to decide what's best for me? _You_ are what's best for me. Do you think I would have agreed to date you, would have fallen in love with you, or would have agreed _to marry_ you if I thought your soul was corrupt? You're one of the best men I know, and you don't even know it.”

She smiled sadly at him, wiping the last of his tears away with the pad of her thumbs. “It's easy to be a good man when that's all you've ever been taught, but Draco, you were taught to be prejudiced and to hate. Look at all you've had to overcome to be the man you are today. _That_ is true courage. _That_ is true strength of character. You've done so much for the Wizarding community since the war, even if I'm the only one who knows the extent of your charity. You've more than made up for your childhood mistakes, love. I don't think it was, but if your soul _was_ tainted after the war, all of your work with Harry at the DMLE, the practically blank Gringotts note you gave Professor McGonagall for the rebuilding of the school, warning Katie Bell's family to go into hiding when Voldemort brought up their names as Order sympathisers, even something as simple as all the times you sat down and played wizarding chess with Ron—all those things add up and banish the darkness.”

Draco could only stare at Hermione, hoping more than anything that the things she said were true. Hoping that every good choice he made, everytime he decided to do something positive instead of reverting back to his pure-blood apathetic ways, some of his damaged soul was repaired.

He pulled her against him, crushing her chest to his, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he tried not to cry once more. He was so damn lucky to have this witch. Merlin, so fucking lucky to have someone who could forgive him his past and see the man he was trying to become.

Hermione hugged Draco in return, her arms around his neck, fingers buried in the hair at his nape. “Let’s go to bed. The water's running cold, and I left my wand on the nightstand.” She grabbed his hand and dried them both off with the fluffy white towel before leading him back into their bed to sleep. Their truths were laid bare. They could figure the rest out tomorrow.

______________

They had compromised on the wedding. In the end, Draco had agreed to the soul bonding on the condition that the guest list be severely restricted. Unlike Hermione, he wasn't wholly sure his soul wasn't corrupted, and on the small chance that it was, he wanted to mitigate the fallout by having only their closest family and friends in attendance. Narcissa had been upset at not being able to plan the elaborate five-hundred-guest wedding of the century for her only son and his hero bride, but she was placated with the thought of spoiling and showing off any future grandchildren.

The couple stood barefoot in front of Kingsley, the ancient thrum of magic from the forest floor of the stone circle resonating through the soles of their feet. The crisp autumn air teased the ends of Hermione's flower-laced curls, tickling her back that her simple white silk shift left bare.

Draco was also dressed all in white, his traditional robe a heavier cotton and more structured than Hermione's simple dress. It emphasized the width of his shoulders, tapering in slightly at his athletic waist and falling just inches short of the pine needle- covered floor. The bright white of the fabric made his blond hair shine, the light from the sun reflecting off of the bright colours, giving him an almost ethereal glow that Hermione, giggling to herself, equated to the Muggle idea of an angel.

Per tradition, no magic was used in their preparations for the day, both Hermione and Draco coming to the ceremony and standing before the gods and their guests in their pure natural beauty. They faced each other, clasping hands gently and looking into each other's eyes as their guests stood in a circle around them outside the ancient ring of stones.

Kingsley's naturally deep voice resonated through the chests of those gathered, a slight echo to it as if the voices of priests past were layered over his as he completed the words that would bind the two souls standing before him.

“May the gods see your worth and bind you together; mind to mind, body to body, spirit to spirit, magic to magic. So mote it be.”

“So mote it be,” Hermione and Draco both repeated after him.

At the final spoken syllable, magic welled up beneath them, coursing through their feet and up through their legs until it coalesced into a ball of energy centered in their chests, finally bursting forth in radiance. The newly married couple gasped as though taking a breath for the first time. Still clasping hands, they broke eye contact and watched as the shining colors of their souls swirled around them.

Hermione smiled at the site of hers, a bright silver that twirled around her, caressing her skin before hovering above her head and lunging forward to meet Draco's. She tore her eyes away, desperate to see the brightness that she just knew resided within Draco.

She wasn't disappointed. Draco's soul was a magical gold, pulsing brightly, luminous in its intensity. It too caressed his skin as though offering peace and benediction before twirling above his head to merge with Hermione's.

“Draco,” she whispered, squeezing his hands in awe. “Look at your soul. It's _golden_ .” She smiled brilliantly at the man—her _husband_ —who continually amazed her with his capacity for growth and love.

His eyes were still raised, gazing above their heads at the silver and gold magic dancing together, swirling and whirling until suddenly they surged together, combining in a bright flash of light. The magic, the embodiment of their souls, was no longer silver and gold, but a pale, iridescent yellow, glittering and shimmering in the perfect amalgamation of their individual colors. The magical energy expanded, the bright light blinding everyone in the forest until suddenly it popped, settling over Draco and Hermione and coating their skin in a luminescent glow.

“I didn't think…” Draco trailed off, a solitary tear tracking down his cheek as he looked down at his wife. His soul-bonded mate. “Thank you, Hermione.”

He bent his lips to hers, sealing their union with the first kiss of the rest of their eternity together.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Nikita Gill challenge at Dramione Fanfiction Writers
> 
> Thank you, as always, to my amazing alpha, msmerlin, who always pushes me to go beyond my comfort zone. 
> 
> And a huge thank you to ravenslight, who agreed to beta this the same day it was due. It is so much better for having her read through it. Any mistakes left are my own because I can't leave well enough alone.
> 
> Prompt:
> 
> Show Me Your Soul
> 
> Show me  
> The most damaged  
> Parts of your soul,  
> And I will show you  
> How it still shines like gold  
> -Nikita Gill


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